Final Fantasy: Gaia
by Zeros
Summary: On a desert world of Marauders and Chocobos, a warrior teams up with a mage to seek vengeance, and just maybe stop a plot for world domination.


A dry wind blew threw the valley. Sand picked up in the gusting wind, carried off into the sky, perhaps never to be seen again in that part of the world. Some say that if the sand could talk, there wouldn't be a single grain that hadn't seen the world. The same could not be said for people. People aren't like sand. People, for one, are far more fragile. People also are solitary creatures, unlike sand. And above all else, people are heavy. It's been theorized that our bodies have nothing to do with our weight. It's because the souls of people are so heavy, that we cannot fly. It's because of the darkness of people's souls that they can never become like the sand, and sail away without the cares of the world.

In a deadly coalition with the wind came the sun. In many ancient stories the sun has been seen as a God who gives life, or even the source of life. The same could not be said here. Here, the sun was death. Twice the size of Earth's sun, the sun here beat down on it's third planet with unchecked fury. Some philosophers once claim the land was covered in water, and lush plant life. Whether it's true or not, people don't care. The people of Gaia no longer hold onto the dream of abundant water, or lush plant life. That had been sacrificed millennia ago, in exchange for the instincts of survival in a land that seemingly no longer wanted it's people.

The only source of survival came from the ancient worship stones to Leviathan, the God of Water. Specially ordained priests known as Summoners prayed to the rock, and water poured forth. It is said in ancient days, these summoners could summon not just water, but the great Leviathan himself. This is just another lost dream of Gaia, though.

In the smaller, Isolated towns, people were born, raised, and died at home, too afraid to leave the water stones. Even in the more populated areas with road systems to cross short distances in the desert, it was still a brave feat for a merchant to travel. There was only one method of transport deemed suitable to travel the desert on. Chocobo. Great birds, the size of a horse, Chocobos came in several colors, mostly yellow, Red, blue, green, and the rare and valued black. They had wings but their massive bodies were too large to ever lift into the air. Perhaps THEIR souls too were weighed down by the world. The raising of these chocobos by merchants and traveling groups was the only way to cross the treacherous sands. The heat did not affect the chocobos like people and their bird feet traveled lightly and quickly across the sands. Most merchants traveled with their chocobos, forming large groups, going from town to town, selling the scarce and valued food, sometimes fair, sometimes at astronomical prices. They could, after all, demand whatever they wanted for the most part.

Of course, the whole world wasn't gloom. Were it that way, mankind would not have lasted a whole lifetime, much less several millennia. Life goes on with people, they form sports, schools, governments. Slowly the world had dragged itself from the brink of death and over the millennia began to prosper.

But wherever people strive to prosper, others strive to tear it down. Bands of Marauders frequented the desert, traveling on their own chocobos, or things of a far more vile nature. For this reason, along with the monsters which frequented the desert planet's sands, travelers always came and went in large caravans. It was because of this that the people of Dolen had never seen, and for that matter never expected to see, a lone chocobo rider. Until now. The first rays off sunlight that reflected from the chocobo's dusty feathers was spotted by the town guard. His hand reached for the "approaching Caravan" bell. It was best to be alert, but something stopped him. As the chocobo came down the dune, nothing else came with it. No carts, no wagons, no hired mercenary forces for protection. Just a lone chocobo. And a rider. The guard quickly donned the heavy chain mail and open faced helm that were his uniform. He considered for a moment taking his spear, but thought better of it. It was just one man and he had probably just been separated from his caravan, he thought as he slowly went down the ladder. Moments later, he scrambled back up, and grabbed his spear. He'd gotten a better look at the rider on the way down. He very well might need the spear.

The first thing one noticed about the rider was not his tall stature, his dark, short hair billowing in the wind, or the sword at his side. It was the expression on his face. Wearing a cloth wrapped several times around his neck and face to cover himself from the wind, the lower half of his face was obscured, but one could be sure he was grinning as if he were a child who had been allowed his first ride on a chocobo by his parents.

The second thing someone would have noticed was the determination with which he rode the chocobo. He was not a lost straggler wandering to a place of safety. He was searching for something. He was coming to Dolen with a purpose. _And men with a purpose are the most dangerous of all._ Thought the guard as his feet touched down on the dusty earth at the base of the guard tower. Taking several steps forward, he held his spear in one hand, his other hand at his side. It was important for a guard to be intimidating. He failed this miserably. Not ever a fan of the popular chocobos, the guard had never really realized how fast chocobo were until he found one careening down the dune at him. As the chocobo came closer and closer, he threw up his hands to protect his face. The only thing that hit him was a large blast of sand as the rider brought the chocobo to a skidding halt.

Looking up, relieved he had not been trampled, the guard caught sight of the rider. Indeed, the rider was as he had looked from a distance, tall, with medium length black hair, which stuck out in several directions do to the nature of his stop. And, indeed, he WAS grinning like a little kid. What was strange about him was the condition of his equipment. He wore some sort of body armor, that resembled leather armor, but was made of a much more flexible and cloth like material, which was a dark, dark navy blue, nearly black. Loose black sleeves came from under the armor, covering his arms completely. He wore two pairs of gloves, which resembled the armor vaguely in that they were the same color and made of the heavy leather like cloth. He wore black heavy slacks, which came down over the tops of his large, dark brown boots. Around his neck was the only thing light on him. A white long lightweight cloth wrapped around his neck, hung loosely around his left shoulder before coming back up to wrap around his face once or twice. At his side in a scabbard, next to several pouches, in a worn scabbard with several scrapes and tiny tears on it, rested his sword. If the hilt was any indicator, the sword matched the rest of his outfit. Old and worn from travel.

He made a spirited dismount from the chocobo, landing on the other side of the bird from the guard, and taking the reins, led the bird from between him and the guard. With his free hand, he unwrapped the cloth from around his face, so it hung near waist level, revealing the lower half of his face. A good-natured smile covered the majority of it. Black haired stubble from several days travel sprouted from his hair to his chin. Running his hand through his hair, as if that would fix it, he reached out his other hand, letting the chocobo reins go, to offer a handshake to the guard.

Nervous, more from the free chocobo then the man, the guard slowly took the hand and shook it.

"Hello, the name's Toren Valner. Sorry about the scare there. Me and Boco here got a little excited to finally see the town." He scratched the chocobo's head, and it rubbed against him.

"Uh, no, no, I was just... trying to keep the dust out of my eyes. That's all." The guard said, trying to make an excuse for his cowardice.

"Uh...huh.." Toren slowly said as he nodded his head, not believing the guard for a moment.

"So, what is your business here, traveler?" Inquired the guard.

"Oh, just passing through, thought I'd check out the chocobo rodeo, spend a night or two at the inn," he paused awkwardly, the smile fading from his face, "maybe inquire about town for someone."

"I see. And who might you be inquiring about, traveler?"

Toren smiled again, "Just a myth."

"Well, we don't have any myth's around here. You might as well be on your way, sir."

"Yeah, I suppose, but you wouldn't turn me away at the gate after coming all this way without even a few days' rest, would you?"

The guard sighed, "Fine, but if you raise any trouble, I'll personally come haul you out of here!" the guard was getting his confidence back, perhaps a bit too much, "And don't be hanging around our town too long. No more then a week, you hear me?"

"I understand, fully sir."

"And go tie down that bird at the stables. I don't want it running around in MY town."

Toren hesitantly stared at the guard, before nodding. Reluctantly, the guard moved aside, and let Toren pass.

Walking quickly past the guard, Toren scratched Boco's head again, and remained silent until he was out of earshot of the guard. "Geez, what a stiff old guy. I'm only an innocent traveler after all, right Boco?"

The chocobo made a weak little noise of acknowledgement. It had been a long journey to Dolen from the last town, after all. "So, Boco, how bout we go get you some food at the stables, and I'll go see about that chocobo rodeo we heard about back in Farent."

The chocobo made another weak noise. IT was tired, and it wasn't happy about going to the stables. Boco didn't like being separated from Toren, just as Toren didn't like being separated from Boco. An expert on chocobos, Toren's father had given him the chocobo egg when he had been very small, maybe four, and had helped Toren hatch the egg, and raise the chocobo during those first few delicate weeks. After that, he and Boco had, in a sense, been raised together. So it was with a very reluctant heart that Toren checked Boco into the stable, even though he knew it was only for the night, and the stable was well stocked.

Afterwards, he walked back around the town, looking for an inn with an open room. Finally he found one called "The Choco-cavern." Chocobos must have been Dolen's theme to an extent. The place looked clean enough, but low enough quality that it was within Toren's price range. Best of all, the Inn had a bar on the first floor, a popular design of the day. This was the best of all, because after several days in the scorching heat, Toren really, REALLY, needed a drink.


End file.
